Back In The Deep Dark Depths Of Hell…

… And I have a confession to make. It would appear, that after talking to some other people who suffer with mental illness, that a lot, not all, but a lot of people who suffer with self harm issues, more specifically cutting, like me, use getting tattoos or piercings to replace the self harming. I happen to think that if you’re into that sort of thing, it is a brilliant idea and a great way to prevent ourselves from ending up with a body full of horrid scars that we are ridiculously ashamed of.

The thing to be careful of, and this is where my confession comes in, is that my tattooist gets pretty booked up, and so there can be a fair wait to get in the chair, and this, as I have never told ANYONE before, causes me to seek refuge in another form of self harm. My problem is that if I don’t cut when I need to, I find myself binge eating. I’m doing it this very minute.

It can cause a lot of problems for anyone who does this. Obesity being the obvious one, and my eating is not regulated properly. I know nothing about binge eating as a mental health disorder, (actually, that’s not strictly speaking true, as I study mental health, I know a little), but I know my own body, and I know that I hold on to weight very easily, and the fact that I will binge for a while and then not eat for a while will not be helping my weight issues.

The other issue I have right now, is that I just want to get drunk. If I could, I’d be smashed right now. I’m not even sure what is going through my mind. I need help, but there is none available, and I can’t disturb anyone else who knows about me, as they’re few and far between, and all have important things on today.

I have to be strong and hold on. I know this, but putting that into practice is a different matter entirely.

H x

Lost, Scared and Alone.

I don’t even know where to begin right now. I’m so lost. I feel so alone, and so very scared. I’m sat alone in my house. You can’t call it a home. I sit here alone in my broken house, on my broken sofa, in a half decorated room with furniture I cannot stand and it feels empty and broken and lonely. It is not my home, it is just a place I have slept in for the last 6 and a half years. It will not be my home until I can find a way to make it look and feel how I want and need it too. I fear that will never happen. I fear I will lose this roof over my head before I can make it into a home. I do not have enough money to cover my rent and bills and to be able to eat. I do not have any money to finish decorating, or put carpet in my house or buy the things I need. My clothes are tatty and worn and cheap and make me feel like I’m a fraudster, because I am not even a shadow of the person I should be. Even in the midst of the false high’s of mania, I’m an still just an empty shell of who I should be.

I cannot find a job. I try everyday, phoning all of the places that are advertising on the jobcentre website. Even the one’s I know are likely to put me in hospital. I fear for my life right now. I fear for it greatly. I even wonder if I will make it through to the end of the day. It doesn’t feel like I will.

I’m just so lost and scared and alone.

Open Letter To David Cameron.

Dear Mr Cameron,

It is thanks to you that I am ashamed to call myself a British citizen! Oh god, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m so tired. So very, very tired. You’re twisted world of power and greed has left me with a choice between sacrificing my health in more ways than one, sacrificing seeing my children or sacrificing the roof over my head and winding up back on the streets.

I’m a very ill lady. I have quite the list of health problems. Your ATOS assessors have found this to be true, and say I’m unfit to work. But as I am also only allowed my children here part time due to one of these illnesses, according to your new “bedroom tax“, I should basically give up my right to even have them part time, because since they love away from me most of the time, having them over to stay is now a privilege that I should now have to pay over £100 a month for, as well as the travelling costs I incur because they live 25 miles away, and the food expenses on top of that. That in itself takes most of my benefit, and since the disability living allowance department only see fit to grant me the lowest amount possible for anxiety issues, and have chosen to ignore the worst of my mental health issues, and ignore my physical health issues altogether, that leaves me in a rather large bind.

Do you know, Mr Cameron, that as a direct result of your bedroom tax, you have worsened my mental and physical health problems under the stresses and strains of the new “bedroom tax”? Did you know, Mr Cameron, that even if I did decide to move to a smaller property, that this would then mean that not only do I lose access to my children, but I then lose access to my family and my entire support network, because to move out of my current home, the home I have lived in now for almost 7 years, I would have to move out of the area, because there are NO properties available in my area that are suitable for me. Tell me, Mr Cameron, how do I get out of that one?

Of course, I could get a job. There is the risk that, even if I am able to find someone that is willing to take on someone that suffers from severe depression, episodes of mania and even psychosis, extreme widespread pain, migraines, anxiety and panic attacks, nausea and vomiting, dizziness and falls, random numbness of the limbs, extreme fatigue, sleep disturbances, swelling of extremities, short term memory loss, concentration difficulties, spatial disorientation, calculation difficulties and other cognitive problems, trouble in communication through not being able to say the right words, frequent intense and realistic nightmares, stiffness in muscles and joints, muscle weakness, sciatica, changes in visual acuity, intolerance of medications, restless leg syndrome, being sensitive to temperature and heat and cold changes, palpitations, breathing difficulties, involuntary muscle spasms, non-cardiac chest pain that mimics a cardiac disorder, pelvic pain, dry eyes and mouth, heel pain, unusual and uncontrollable irritability, self harms and has suicidal thoughts and tendencies, I could then lose the job because of all of these problems. That is IF I find someone willing to take me on with all of that.

If I do find someone to take me on, and my goodness I would love to be back in work again, I run the risk of regular hospitalisation. Either from my mental or physical illness. I have already had to come off my medications, psych meds and all, because once I do find a job, I will no longer be able to afford these medicines, and the negative effects are already showing.

I actually cannot remember the last time I ate a nutritious meal. I cannot remember the last time I ate a full meal. I live off of snacks. The odd biscuit here, the odd tiny microwave “meal” there. No nutrition what-so-ever. I cannot buy salads or vegetables, because they do not last long enough, and once they have gone, I cannot afford to buy anything else to replace them until my next “payday” or maybe even the payday after that. So it has to be small snacks that will not go off quickly and that I can make last for as long as possible. Please think about that every time your wife cooks you a nice healthy meal, or you eat out at a restaurant.

There are thousands upon thousands of people who are in the same position as me. Don’t get me wrong, I know something had to be done, but not to the point of people suffering and losing their lives, surely? I certainly fear for my life. I really, truly do.

So I beg you Mr Cameron, I beg of you with everything I have left inside of me, please, PLEASE start thinking about the people who are suffering this torture, and do something to help us so that we don’t suffer any more. I know my words are redundant, but they needed to be spoken even if then fell on deaf ears.

Holly

The True Horror Of “Care” Homes.

Firstly I would like to give you the opportunity to look over this link:

http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/uk-news/how-grandad-end-up-like-2121511

That poor man!! He had been withheld food and drink for the last few weeks of his life BY THE “CARE” HOME!! His partner had been feeding him prior to the home telling her she was no longer allowed to do that. They call this “end of life care“, and all I can really say to that, is if that is what they call end of life care, then please, nobody care for me when I am dying! I don’t want to be cared for if that is the case!

I just don’t have any more words to say about this, I am too shocked and disgusted by it.